Bought By Santa (Seasonal Obsessions #1)

Chapter 9

The Santa

I stand by the door, arms crossed over my chest, as the doctor enters the room in my penthouse reserved for medical stuff. Dr. Carmichael doesn’t waste a second; she’s all business as she immediately begins setting up, preparing for the tests she’s about to conduct. Efficiency is what I pay for, and her swift movements reassure me that Carolina is in capable hands.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Knight,” Dr. Carmichael greets with a curt nod, not even flinching at the cold aura I emanate.

“Doctor,” I reply, my voice clipped, my gaze never wavering from Carolina, who lies exposed on the examination table, vulnerability etched into every line of her body—yet so deliciously enticing.

Dr. Carmichael raises a delicate brow as she looks at Carolina. “You must be Miss Sterling,” she observes, snapping on gloves with practiced ease.

Carolina pushes herself up, so she’s resting on her elbows. “What gave it away?” she snaps, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

Since the good doc texted me when she was on her way and what to expect, I had time to get Carolina into the room and onto the examination table. She was surprisingly agreeable until she found out I wasn’t going to leave her and the doctor alone. In fact, I think she’s still pissed about that.

“Miss Sterling, we’re going to begin with an ultrasound, followed by a series of blood tests, to assess your fertility levels. I’ll also do a pregnancy test,” Dr. Carmichael explains, her tone professional, detached. It’s the detachment I appreciate most; emotions have no place in my world unless I’m the one evoking them.

Carolina lies back down and throws her hands up in the air. “Have at it, doctor. But you should know I’m bleeding from my vagina, so a pregnancy test isn’t necessary.” Turning her head toward me, she shoots daggers through her eyes, making me bark out a surprised laugh at her crassness.

“Are you certain you’re on your period?” Dr. Carmichael asks, unbothered by Carolina’s words. “Or is there a chance it’s another form of vaginal bleeding?”

My hellcat gnaws on her bottom lip. “Well, I’m pretty certain. My womb feels like it’s being sliced open with a dull knife, and the cramps are definitely real.”

I soften my gaze, regretting I didn’t buy any painkillers. “Do you have anything for her pain?” I ask the doc, not wanting Carolina to suffer through pain unless I’m the one who’s dolling it out.

She nods. “I do. Remind me before I leave.” Turning to Carolina, she gestures to her feet. “Please place your feet in the stirrups,” she commands.

Carolina’s eyes flicker toward me again, a silent plea for privacy, but I don’t budge. I stay behind the doctor, wanting to see everything she’s doing. My presence here isn’t about intimidation; it’s a reminder of our arrangement. She’s mine, and every part of this process belongs to me, too.

“Nicklas, please…” she starts, “at least stop eyeing my vagina—”

I cut her off with a sharp look. “I’m staying,” I clip, the words laced with an edge that should tell her to let it go right the fuck now.

Carolina’s mouth snaps shut, the tension in her jaw betraying her frustration. The doctor doesn’t miss a beat, turning on the ultrasound machine, the soft whirring noise filling the silence.

As the cool gel spreads across Carolina’s stomach and the transducer glides over her skin, images flicker on the monitor. I can’t decipher them, but I don’t need to. Dr. Carmichael’s steady commentary tells me all I need to know. Ovaries, follicles, womb—all words that spell out the future heir to my empire. Carolina’s discomfort is irrelevant; this is about legacy.

“Everything appears normal,” Dr. Carmichael concludes, stripping off her gloves with a professionalism that matches my own approach to business. “Do you want to put on some clothes?” Even though the question is clearly meant for Carolina, both women look at me.

When I nod, Carolina moves behind the privacy curtain, and I promptly follow her. I get she doesn’t want the doctor to watch her get dressed, but that doesn’t mean she gets to hide from me. She looks up as I approach, but doesn’t say anything. I watch as she picks up the pajama pants I got her, reaching into the pocket for something. My body tenses, readying myself in case she tries anything stupid.

“Do you mind getting me some toilet paper?” she asks, exasperation coating her words.

“What’s in your hand?” I ask, pointing at the one that’s clearly clenched around something.

“It’s nothing. Can I have some toilet paper, please?”

“Show. Me. What. You. Are. Holding.”

Huffing, she opens and shows me the tampon. “It’s just a fucking tampon, Nicklas. Now, are you going to get me some toilet paper or not?” she snaps.

I get her some toilet paper and wet wipes, watching as she wipes herself before placing the tampon inside her. I don’t know why, but Carolina’s period fucking excites me. It feels like a secret layer I’m peeling back, one, judging by her awkwardness, she’s never shared with anyone.

Fuck, I like knowing I’m her first.

Once Carolina is dressed, she sits back down on the table, never looking away from me as the doctor draws blood and rambles on about the tests. “I’ll send the blood samples to the lab immediately. You should have the results within a couple of hours,” she explains when she’s done.

“Ensure it’s sooner,” I say, my impatience clear. Dr. Carmichael nods, understanding the unspoken threat in my tone, and quickly packs up her equipment.

As Carolina sits up, she pins me with a glare. “What’s the rush? I’m on my fucking period, Nicklas. I can’t conceive anything for a week, anyway.”

Right, she has a point there, not that I’m going to admit that. “I don’t like waiting,” I snap. “The sooner I know whether you’re a viable candidate, the better.”

I don’t miss the smile on Dr. Carmichael’s lips, though she has the good sense to wipe it away when she notices me watching her. “Here are the painkillers.” She goes to hand Carolina the jar, but I quickly snap it from her hand. “Take care, Miss Sterling,” she says, giving Carolina a brief, impersonal smile before exiting the room.

With the doctor gone, my attention shifts entirely to Carolina. I should punish her for openly defying me, but I have no intention of doing that. I like her spark and defiance, it’s stoking a fire within me, making the power I hold over her even more intoxicating. Knowing she’s mine for the next month is fueling the primal urge that simmers beneath my tailored suit.

Whether it’s only for December or the next year and nine months, I will have her, completely and thoroughly, and nothing—not her comfort or her protests—will deter me from what I want.

“What happens if I’m unable to carry a child?” Carolina asks, her voice small.

I close my eyes for a brief moment, not willing to even entertain that thought. “You are,” I growl.

“But what if I’m not?” she insists.

The sterile smell of antiseptic lingers in the air, hell, I can smell it on her skin. I frown, not liking the way it smells on her, it’s hiding the scent that’s all her. “Get up,” I order, ignoring her question.

Carolina hesitates for a fraction of a second before obeying, rising from the table with a grace that belies her inner turmoil.

“We’ll get the results today, then you’ll see I’m right,” I say, keeping my voice devoid of emotion. The timetable is a dangling carrot for both of us, a timeline that holds more than just medical data—it holds our fate, entwined and uncertain.

Carolina’s eyes flicker to mine, a storm of emotions clouding the blue depths, but she remains silent. I take her hand and lead her back to the bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom. The need to cleanse and claim her flesh is overwhelming.

“Shower with me,” I rasp. It’s not a request, and we both know it.

Carolina hesitates, her lips parting slightly as if she might protest. I see the defiance sparking in her gaze, the bratty resistance that tempts me like a red flag to a bull. “I… Nicklas, I—” Her words falter under the weight of my stare.

“Don’t test me right now, Hellcat,” I interrupt sharply.

She swallows hard, her bravado crumbling as she realizes the futility of arguing with me. Slowly, she nods, acquiescing to my demand, and I move over to the spacious shower, turning on the water. The sound reverberates against the marble, a rhythmic beat that seems to pulse with our heartbeats. Steam begins to rise, cloaking the room in a warm mist that clings to my skin.

“Undress,” I instruct, peeling off my own clothing with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact. She complies, revealing the curves and softness that haunt my dreams, making me burn with a desire I’ve never known before her.

As we step under the hot cascade, I close the distance between us, relishing the initial shock of water on my skin. I watch her closely, noting the way her breath catches and her hardened nipples show how her body responds to my proximity.

“Turn around,” I growl, needing to touch her, to wash away the remnants of anyone else’s hands on her.

The steam clings to my skin as I watch Carolina under the spray of the shower, her blonde hair plastered to her delicate shoulders. She’s a vision of vulnerability, and it stirs something primal within me.

I reach for the body wash on the ledge, pouring a generous amount into my palm before pressing myself against her back. My hands find her hips, my fingers splaying over the softness there, and I hear her breath hitch.

“Relax,” I command, the word a low rumble in her ear. My touch is firm as I massage the lather into her skin, tracing the curve of her waist and up to the swell of her breasts.

She leans into me, her head tilting back, giving me access to the column of her throat. “Nicklas,” she moans.

Bending down, I lick the length of her neck. “Yes, Hellcat?” For good measure, I pinch her nipples, making her arch her back and push her ass against my hard cock. I spin her around to face me, my gaze devouring the sight of her flushed cheeks and parted lips.

My hands roam lower, and I reach between her thighs, finding the string of her tampon. Without hesitation, I pull it free and carelessly toss it into the corner. Her gasp is sharp, and her body tenses.

“W-we shouldn’t… I mean… I’m bleeding.” She bows her head like she’s feeling ashamed.

“Look at me,” I growl. When she doesn’t obey, I move a finger under her chin and force her to lift her head. “You’re mine, Carolina. I’ve bought the right to every inch of you, even your blood.”

There’s a flicker of something in her eyes—fear, excitement, need. It’s all there, mingling in the blue depths. But then she wordlessly melts against me as the blood mingles with the water, swirling down the drain.

My thumb brushes over her clit, eliciting a moan that vibrates through her body. It’s a sound that grips me, that makes me want to hear it again and again. “Don’t stop,” she moans as she runs her hands across my shoulders and down my chest to my abs. She caresses every groove, like she’s committing my body to memory.

I growl with approval as she reaches my cock, fisting the shaft. I don’t care that she can’t close her hand around my girth, her touch is all that matters.

While she slowly jerks me off, I slide two fingers into her wet heat. Knowing the wetness is caused by a mixture of her natural lubricant and blood makes me fucking feral.

“You like that?” she purrs, working her hand along my shaft with a deliberate slowness.

“Harder,” I rasp, thrusting into her hand. “Squeeze me harder.”

As I curl my fingers inside her, hitting her walls, I claim her lips in a hard kiss that’s filled with need. I suck her bottom lip between my teeth, biting the tender flesh as I’ve seen her do countless times. Our mouths move together with an urgency that’s both wild and inevitable.

I taste the sweetness of her lips, the heat of her tongue, and it’s everything I crave. As we kiss, our bodies press closer, the boundaries between us blurring until I’m not sure where I end and she begins.

My fingers piston in and out of her, and I make sure the heel of my hand presses against her swollen clit. “Purr for me, Hellcat,” I growl against her lips.

She throws her head back and moans loudly. “Oh, yeah. Right there.”

What the fuck kind of men has she been with in the past? If anyone buys that performance, I dare say they’ve never really felt what sex can and should be like. The moans coming from her are so fucking fake I can barely stand it. As is the way she bites her lip and looks up at me from beneath her lashes.

It’s all practiced, staged.

I still my hand. “Is that really what you think I want?” I taunt as I pull my fingers from her bloody cunt.

“What?” she volleys. “W-what did I do?”

Moving my hand to the nape of her neck, I squeeze until she whimpers in pain. “I don’t care what fucking limp-dicked shitheads you’ve spread your legs for in the past, Carolina. But when you’re with me, I never want you faking anything.”

Her eyes widen. “I wasn’t—”

Without warning, I shove my red fingers into her mouth, intending to shut her the fuck up before I lose my patience. She cries out and tries to get away from me, but I tighten my hold on the back of her neck, holding her in place.

“This thing between us is real,” I roar, angry she dares fake anything with me. “I am paying good money for your womb, Carolina. And I expect you to do your part.”

She gags as I ruthlessly shove my fingers down her throat. She garbles and moans, and I’m pretty sure she tells me to go fuck myself. Maybe I should fuck my hand. At least that would be real and not whatever she thinks she’s doing.

When tears stream down her cheeks, I pull my fingers out of her mouth and let her breathe again. “I-I’m sorry,” she sobs, her knees buckling.

I chuckle, darkly. “Are you?” I question, not believing her for one second.

She stares defiantly at me, and I raise a questioning eyebrow. “No,” she hisses, angrily swiping at her tears. Her tone makes it clear her sobs were as fake as her moans. “You’ve bought my vagina, but not my pleasure. That shit you have to earn.”

A sinister smile stretches across my lips. “Is that so, Hellcat?”

Fuck, she’s sexy when she’s angry and making demands.

Mimicking my words, she retorts, “Yes, that’s so.”

I let out a cruel laugh while I tangle my fingers in her long, blonde hair. Then I force her down on her knees, ignoring her whimpers and hisses of pain. “I was going to make you come so hard,” I growl.

She rolls her eyes. “That’s what they all say,” she smarts.

As much as her bravado and spirit turn me on, it also pisses me right off. I’m tempted to make her come just to prove how easily I can do it. The only reason I don’t is that after throwing that shit in my face, she has to earn the right.

“Stay on your knees,” I rasp while stroking my hard cock. “Since there’s no point in fucking you yet, you can swallow my cum. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out.”

The Breeder

Anger and humiliation flash in my eyes as I do as he says. He tightens his grip on his cock and starts stroking himself faster. I close my eyes, refusing to look at him.

“Look at me, Carolina,” he commands in a deep, gravelly tone. When I shake my head, he pulls at my hair until I can’t take the pain anymore, and I finally open my eyes. “If I tell you to do something, you fucking do it.”

Without warning, he shoves his cock into my mouth, and I try my best not to gag at the sudden intrusion. I move my hands to his thighs to steady myself, but he uses his free hand to slap them away.

He pumps into my mouth with wild abandon, and I can tell he’s close to coming. I want to weep with joy as the taste of his pre-cum spreads in my mouth. It’s a hell of a lot better than the disgusting taste of my period.

Ugh, gross!

“Make me come,” he growls, thrusting deeper into my throat.

My eyes water and I feel like retching, but I do as he says. He grunts and groans above me, his movements becoming more erratic by the second. I try not to think about what’s happening and focus on just making him come quickly.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally releases into my mouth with a loud moan.

He pulls out and looks at me like I’m a bug under his shoe. Then he pushes me away from him. “Clean yourself up, you’re getting blood everywhere,” he sneers before striding out of the bathroom without another word.

I collapse onto the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks as I try to catch my breath. How did things get so out of control? How did I end up in this situation? I know the answer—desperation. Desperation for money.

The money isn’t even to live an extravagant life, it’s so Willow and I can both survive. And now here I am, selling my body to a man who doesn’t see me as anything other than a vessel for his child.

But despite everything that’s happened today, there’s still a part of me that refuses to give in completely. He might be renting my womb, but no matter what he’s saying, he doesn’t own my pleasure or my actions.

I might have agreed to lie on my back and spread my legs for him whenever he wants me to, but that’s it. He doesn’t get to make me come or dictate how I act.

Maybe I should have insisted on a legal contract between us. Then again, can you even get contracts for this shit? We could probably find one for surrogates and amend it to fit our situation.